At the public library where I work, a mom and her kiddo, age four-ish, stopped by to check out some picture books.
Mom explains that they are big fans of my Friday evening online storytime. In fact, “If [insert kiddo’s name] has a good week at preschool, his special reward is to get to watch Miss Becky's Friday evening online storytime with his little brother.”
My heart burst. Right there. In the middle of the public library.
I am someone’s special reward?
What an honor. I swear, if I could go back in time and talk to teenage-me, the awkward, socially anxious, angsty outcast who fantasized about being a famous singer, author, or movie star to fulfil the emptiness and self-loathing I actually felt inside, I'd tell that girl that everything will work out just fine. I might never get to recite my "thank you" speech at the Grammys, the Oscars, or when I pick up my Nobel Prize for literature, but my storytime is someone’s special reward.
I remember how much I loved my own storytime librarian when I was this kiddo’s age. Grownups, remember: everyone has an important role in this village. Raising kids is a heroic act. You might not see yourself as a hero, but some kid out there sure does. Be the hero that kid thinks you are.
